


come what may

by Radio Rascal (Vagrants)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Angst, Blitzwing being Blitzwing, Canon-Typical Violence, Fires, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Megatron being mean, takes place during cancelled season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20153158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrants/pseuds/Radio%20Rascal
Summary: Blitzwing's wise enough now to recognize a terrible life decision when he sees one. If Megatron can't see it for himself, then Blitzwing will have to protect him by any means necessary.





	come what may

**Author's Note:**

> this sat around in my docs for ages even though i had to do very little work to it
> 
> also it hurt me to write so enjoy!

The elevator door slid open and Blitzwing stepped out into Megatron’s hub of operations. Situated on the top story of the tallest skyscraper in Kaon, with an open plan layout and floor-to-ceiling windows around most of the perimeter, he could see almost all of the city with a turn of his head, and the organic Earth beyond it.

Megatron kept the room dim. Kaon’s lights and the distant shining beacon of Detroit clarified the night sky, so there was little to see outside. He still stared outward, seated upon a throne. Blitzwing picked him out by his optics.

“Lord Megatron,” he started, stopping before the throne and bowing. “I received your message.”

“It wasn’t a summons, Blitzwing,” Megatron said. With his chin rested on a raised hand and his optics half-closed, he looked bored or sleepy. His damaged body tired him quickly, and he’d spent most of his time resting in this room since capturing Kaon and detaching it from Cybertron. “Why are you here?”

Anxiety crawled up his spine. His spark thudded against his armor for two beats before he forced himself to speak. “I wished to discuss the message’s content with you.”

“Go ahead. Say your piece.” He sounded amused.

Blitzwing straightened. “Sir, I know you want a new body and more power, and more triple changers would be useful, but would it not be better to use Lugnut instead? Or the Starscream clones?” Megatron snorted and Blitzwing added, “Ramjet and Sunstorm have proven themselves trustworthy.”

“And why would that be better?” Megatron leaned forward and tilted his head. In the light coming from himself, his expression looked severe and playful. He wasn’t taking Blitzwing seriously.

“You shouldn’t become a triple changer,” Blitzwing said, enunciating his words slowly in an effort to keep himself stable. The stress of just talking to Megatron was getting to him and he wanted to either get angry or break the tension. “It’s painful and will ruin your mind.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. Blitzwing flinched as though struck. “Are you underestimating me or Shockwave?”

“Neither, my liege. You’re one of the strongest bots I know, and Shockwave is one of the smartest. Strength and intelligence don’t mean anything when your processor is...when someone...does that to you.” Blitzwing broke optic contact, staring at the floor. “I don’t want that for you, Lord Megatron.”

“I will be fine,” Megatron said, and he said it like a decree. “Was that all? Leave me.”

“Please, sir,” Blitzwing said, snapping his gaze back to Megatron and clasping his hands together. “If anything were to happen to you again, we would fall apart.”

The playfulness went from his face. Megatron stared him down, seeming to tower over him even while sitting. “Shockwave has already assured me he can do it without fragmentation. Even so, I am not as weak as you, Blitzwing. I will have my surgery in the morning and you and Lugnut will run things while I recover.”

“There are other side effects besides fragmentation. Other things that could happen. You could die!”

“I will not. Leave, Blitzwing. I want to rest.”

Blitzwing stared at him, searching himself for anything else to say or do. After a second his wings drooped and he hung his head. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I bothered you.” He turned around and stepped into the elevator.

“Blitzwing,” Megatron called just as the doors started to close. “I’ll be  _ fine _ . I promise.”

He nodded. The doors closed.

He gave into his anger and punched the cabin wall, yelling inarticulate curses at his uselessness and his shame and Shockwave’s existence. This was Shockwave’s fault for making Megatron think the surgery was safe. He was going to mutilate their master under the misguided belief that he was good enough to cheat nature. Triple changers weren’t safe and never would be. Blitzwing understood that. Nobody else did.

Drastic action was required. Blitzwing needed to think—he wanted to think, but all he could do was throw punches at the wall and scream.

The elevator dinged, opening on his floor. He stormed out, fists clenched and ready for the first good target, which ended up being a maintenance drone wandering the hall. He kicked it into the wall and it landed on its back, its insectiod legs scratching at the air. He stomped it but it continued to twitch, which made him even angrier. His footfalls were like a mad beat and he didn’t stop until there was nothing left of the drone.

His anger had been reduced to nothing as well. Blitzwing shook his head, processor pounding from the noise he’d made, armor contracting as he cooled down. He looked at the bits and pieces lying around, at the snippets of wire and metal caught in the seams of his foot. Sometimes he still coped poorly, and he’d been doing this for decades. It wasn’t a big deal as long as he broke objects and not his fellow Decepticons, and he was beyond feeling shame for his condition, but it had taken so long to get here.

He didn’t want Megatron to have the same fight. It couldn’t happen; he wouldn’t let it happen. It was time to pay Shockwave a visit.

* * *

Long tables covered in instruments, colorful beakers, and beeping machines filled Shockwave’s lab, making it a maze to navigate. He was still awake, peering down a microscope in the corner. Upon Blitzwing’s intrusion, he glanced over and muttered an indistinct greeting.

“Call off the surgery.”

Shockwave backed away from the microscope and gave Blitzwing his full attention. “Excuse me? For what reason?”

Blitzwing brought his cannons forward. “I said so.”

Shockwave shrank back literally. “Are you more unhinged than usual? Lord Megatron’s surgery is scheduled for just after dawn and unless he tells me otherwise, that is when it will happen. Get out of here before I sound the alarm.”

Heat swelled inside, melting through the ice in his cannons. “Then I’ll have to take things into my own servos!” He roared, spraying flames over Shockwave’s head.

“Stop it!” he shrilled, shrinking further beneath the fire. “This equipment is very sensitive! There are flammable materials in here! You’ll set the whole building ablaze!”

“Good,” Blitzwing snapped, directing his cannons to a row of beakers in front of him. Glass burst under the heat, and the flames grew on contact with some of the fluids. A gross chemical smell filled the air, and the flames themselves took on peculiar colorful tinges.

Shockwave screamed. He shoved himself under a table, claws clamped over his helm. Blitzwing was blocking the exit and now there was a considerable wall of flame between the two of them, so he didn’t dare leave cover. As the flames soared higher, the heat began to feel uncomfortable even for Blitzwing. He wondered if Shockwave could get out of the room at all. He hoped not, and finding pleasure in the thought, he laughed.

A heavy hand grasped his shoulder. He looked over, saw Megatron’s face, and everything stuttered to a halt. “My lord,” he intoned, the last flames dying on his cannon tips. He was frigid, frozen in place.

“Put this out,” Megatron said.

Blitzwing obeyed at once. Ice hit fire in a hiss of steam. Most of the flames died in seconds, and after it was clear enough, he moved forward and stamped out what was left by hand or foot. When it was over he stood stiff and awkward in the middle of the room, surrounded by charred instruments and unrecognizable heaps of ash. From the corner of his optic he saw Shockwave skitter across the floor on all fours like a scared lizard.

He scuttled behind Megatron’s leg, returned to normal size, and peeked out from his shelter. “He tried to kill me,” he said.

“I heard the smoke alarm,” Megatron said. “I figured you were doing something stupid, but I did not expect to find you trying to kill my most loyal servant.”

_ I’m loyal, _ Blitzwing protested.  _ I’m loyal too! _ “I’m sorry, my liege.”

“This behavior is unacceptable.”

“I understand.”  _ Please listen. Please. Everything’s in flames… _

“Why attack my lab?” Shockwave risked stepping out further. “My work is ruined and for no good reason.”

“I wanted to stop the surgery.”

Shockwave slapped a claw over his head with a groan. “You thought this was an operating theater? No, you idiot. The operating theater’s on the other side of town. In a hospital. Which is where surgeries take place.”

Megatron inclined his head, incising Blitzwing with a look. “I’m ashamed of you, Blitzwing. I’m embarrassed by your sentimentality.”

He trembled and bowed his head, unable to bear seeing Megatron look at him like that. “My lord, it is shameful. I hate what I’ve done.”

“Being a triple changer isn’t what made you like this. You’re just a fool at spark. Get out of my sight, and don’t cross my path again until the surgery is done.”

“Yes sir. As you wish, Lord Megatron.” Blitzwing ducked past him, out into the hall, and with his head still bowed hurried through the building. He found a window, threw it open, and jumped into the night, rocketing forward.

The ground sped by below him and he thought how good it would feel to let himself crash. Metal buckling, lines rupturing, systems crashing. Pain to take the edge from pain. At this height, he wouldn’t go offline, he would just wish he did.

He could leave Kaon. There was nothing stopping him, nothing holding him back, and Megatron and Shockwave both would like that very much right now, he thought. Where would he go? Did it matter?

Instead he flew on, letting the air over his wings and the wind in his audials lull him. He didn’t want to be here, but there was nowhere else he could be.

He lifted his head, soared higher, and searched for a place to spend the night.

* * *

Dawn pinked the sky, the sun’s wakeful fire banishing the few stars visible through the city’s lights. A few clouds crawled by, on a trajectory to crash and brew a storm. Detroit was under shadow already, and it was a matter of time before it came here. Omens, good or bad, didn’t exist, but he couldn’t help thinking it would be fitting weather for the day’s occasion.

Blitzwing sat on a roof near the edge of the city, watching the morning. He had no desire to leave Kaon, not really. He had just been angry and sad and afraid. Megatron’s surgery was going on right now, probably, but it had been long enough now that he thought of it with detached acceptance instead of last night’s whirlwind of emotions. When there was no way to fight, the mind and body had ways of accepting even the worst situations.

Megatron would need him afterward. Whatever unfortunate,  _ totally unforeseen _ damage occurred to his processor, he would require someone who had already been there to deal with the changes to his body. He would understand Blitzwing again, want to be around Blitzwing again. It reminded him of an Earth term—silver linings. That was a silver lining, wasn’t it? Was it selfish to think so?

He wondered which of them would take it harder, Megatron or Shockwave. For Megatron it would be a matter of wounded pride over no longer having perfect control; for Shockwave, humiliation at having hurt his commander. Blitzwing started to accept what was going to happen, bumping over it in his mind until it became worn and smooth. Yes, it was going to be okay, no matter what, somehow. Perhaps his liege was even right, and nothing would happen. Perhaps all this anxiety was for nothing.

There was no way to tell unless he got up and saw for himself. Blitzwing stood and took off, heading home and deciding he’d accept it no longer what home looked like now.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
